


a permanent solution

by A_Starry_Night



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Starry_Night/pseuds/A_Starry_Night
Summary: I wrote this at 3;30 in the morning on my second double shift in a row, so I apologize if reading this gives you whiplash. I think it did to me writing this, because I started it as a tragedy and then it quickly devolves into semi-crackiness.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 3;30 in the morning on my second double shift in a row, so I apologize if reading this gives you whiplash. I think it did to me writing this, because I started it as a tragedy and then it quickly devolves into semi-crackiness.

"You're sssupposed to be merciful!" Crowley was screaming in the silence. He was by far the most uncollected he had ever been in all the days of his existence, with dust and ash smudged so deeply and ingrained in his skin it was hard to tell he had been pale-skinned once, and his black clothes torn and ripped and burned in places. Around him, the sea of war-garbed angels looked on passively, their expressions made from marble and their hearts as distant and cold as the stars that no longer shone in the heavens.

Michael was the least moved of all. "Justice must be served," he repeated sternly, the sword by his side still flashing ominously. The rumble of distant fires and hissing of evaporating water and blood was the only sound there was. 

Crowley hissed at him, his wings stretching to their limits as if to intimidate. "You can't have him."

"We will simply strike you down, demon," the Archangel told him, truly growing irritated now, "before we move on to him."

"Crowley..."

The quiet voice that spoke his name was shaking with a mix of horror and simple exhaustion, but it was clear for them all to understand. The demon startled but he didn't dare to look over his shoulder at the angel he was protecting with his own body. His words were directed still only to Michael. "He isss guilty of nothing. Unlesss it'ss by assssociation, and that'sss hardly fair, iss it?"

One of the Archangels shifted behind Michael's shoulder; in this, the most Final of all battles, demons and angels were as anonymous as ever with their features blurred and their perceived sexuality utterly washed away, and Crowley had no idea which one it was his words had struck. He pushed on. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"Human sentiment," one of the other Archangels replied. He thought maybe from the mix of masculinity and feminine voice that it was Akatriel. "The Lord already knows who is guilty and who is innocent, even before the beginning of Time."

"You're not Him!" He was damned (not Literally, of course, since that had already happened) if he was going to allow these angels to beat him in a debate of rhetoric. He'd been arguing with Aziraphale since Eden, after all. 

Lying in the mud of this final battle, struggling to find purchase to stand when his leg was ripped and torn, Aziraphale could only look up in silent fear and amazement at the tall slim figure of the demon standing above him. In this wide expanse of void Crowley's red hair gleamed the color of blood, and the harsh unforgiving light of the angels' amassed weapons glinted in his yellow eyes. Only Aziraphale could see the pure terror that was straining at the sinews and instincts of Crowley's being, the basic animal urge to flee from such Holiness.

And yet he'd stepped in between them, when Michael's blade had moved to sever the thread of Aziraphale's existence.

The air itself had seemed to freeze in that instant, and dimly the angel thought the whole of Creation was holdings its breath.

"The principality has been found to fraternize with the Enemy," Michael said with terrifying finality. His grey eyes were frosty as he gazed down at the demon. "Namely yourself. Think of that, demon, for your own actions has caused this angel's destruction." 

There was no possible way a demon could hold out against the mightiest of all the angels; Aziraphale dreaded being witness to Crowley's own end under the celestial sword, but his stomach dropped and the fear turned to ash in his mouth when instead the demon was merely subdued and forced aside. 

Sick at heart, exhausted from the fighting that had brought about Armageddon, and with nothing else left to give, Aziraphale met Michael's gaze pleadingly. "Don't make him watch this. Please."

But the long eons of fighting had burned away the last of the Archanges' empathy or compassion. This final Armageddon had been raging for far too long; and finally Lucifer was chained and ready to be thrown permanently in the Lake of Fire, as it was Written. This final act of rebellion from the last demon on the loose didn't make a difference. Both Enemy and brother would be put to death for their Arrangement.

Michael didn't speak. The blade merely swung up, ready to strike.

And Crowley moved.

He didn't think.

He merely sprang.

The angels holding him were too startled by his actions to stop him in time; he wrenched his body sideways very much like the snake he was and as the flaming sword flared downwards in a beautiful, deadly arch towards Aziraphale's blonde crown he leaped between them.

Flames hissed and spat, the world pulsed with an agony he'd never felt before, and distantly he heard the angel's voice scream.

_"Crowley!"_

Reality seemed to bend, folding up on itself, and he had one last agonizing second not to worry about Aziraphale, or whether his sacrifice was worth anything, but to wonder whether non-existence was as black and bleak as the philosophers' always thought.

And then...

Nothing.

\-----

And of course, Nothing was nothing it was cracked up to be.

\-----

Crowley had no physical body to speak of-- that is, he could not be unconscious, or asleep, or even at this point even dead because none of those things existed now. But nonetheless the sensation he was wrapped up in felt very much like awakening from a very long nap, and not altogether a pleasant one. He ached everywhere, for one thing, and for another his head was throbbing with a headache that was too reminiscent of a hangover without actually having had the decency to allow him the fun of actually drinking.

"Da-- _ngnabit_."

What? Confusion gave him the extra shove he needed to fully jolt to awareness, and he opened his perceived eyes to find himself surrounded by white.

"Oh Someplace," he muttered, and his unphysical body sat up to better view his very un-stimulating surroundings. "Seriously?" he complained. "If I'd known that this is oblivion I would have rather stayed Down Below!"

WE HAVE BEEN EXPECTING YOU, CROWLEY.

The Voice that spoke was everywhere at once, echoing in the void and vibrating deep within what remained of the demon's tattered soul, and Crowley flinched backwards despite himself. Of course, flinching backwards has a very loose meaning when you're surrounded by nothing, and he found himself directly facing the one who had spoken.

His jaw dropped. "No way," he breathed.

I THINK YOU WILL FIND, said the Voice, THAT IT IS 'YAHWEH'.

There was multiple groans from the souls surrounding the Most High-- Crowley saw with a slight shock that there was Moses, and Elijah not looking a day over three thousand and five, and Abraham, not to mention several more he recognized. They were all rolling their eyes or shaking their heads in fond exasperation.

"That was old when the Israelites were still slaves, you know," Moses said testily to the Almighty.

"It's the dad jokes!" Daniel exclaimed. "It's true that Lucifer fell because he wanted to make himself Sovereign but that's only part of it--"

"Dad jokes," Job agreed seriously. "The constant dad jokes definitely had something to do with it."

"Oh come on," the bearded Peter said from Moses's opposite side, "they're not all bad."

"Yeah, you would say that!" Doubting Thomas accused him, leaning over in front of a thoroughly exasperated Jacob Israel.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Crowley interrupted, thoroughly bemused and irritated watching them all. And annoyed. He was definitely annoyed. "Where is this supposed to be, and why are you all here, how did _I_ end up here, and why can't I say a _frickin' proper swear word_?!"

AH, God said somewhat apologetically, I'M AFRAID THAT WOULD BE ME. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY SUCH WHEN IN MY PRESENCE.

"Of course," Crowley said snidely. "Bit too pure for that, yeah?"

NO, came the rather bemused reply, I MEAN IT IS LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE.

Crowley meant to say _Fuck_ in reply, as was his wont, but what came out of his mouth was not what he'd intended. "Frack."

SEE? NOTHING FOR IT, I'M AFRAID. He did sound genuinely sorry, but it did nothing for Crowley's mood.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're just torn up inside, but would you care to explain something to me? Namely why I'm _not dead_?"

"But you are," Elijah said helpfully, motioning to all of him. 

Crowley bared his teeth at him, unimpressed. "You know what I mean, tosspot. Demons and angels have mortal souls, and I think a celestial sword blessed by Michael himself would do a pretty bleeping good job of making sure that soul stays dead."

AND YET YOU ARE HERE, God replied patiently, BECAUSE I WISHED IT TO BE SO.

"But what's the point?" Crowley exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I'm nothing but a Fallen angel-- You cast us out of Heaven for turning against You. So what have I done that could possibly make You reconsider?"

"Selfless sacrifice," came the reply. Crowley couldn't tell who it was that said it as the crowd was too thick, but it was a voice he didn't recognize.

He still wasn't impressed. "No such thing," he hissed, shaking his head.

I THINK THAT YOUR ACTIONS TO PROTECT AZIRAPHALE WOULD SAY OTHERWISE, CROWLEY. 

"Yeah? And where did that get him?" The bitterness in the demon's voice was such that he couldn't mask it, and he glared up at the Almighty. "Cut down by his own kind."

AM I NOT THE CREATOR? DO I NOT HAVE THE POWER TO GIVE, AND TO TAKE AWAY?

"Well, You take away a hell of a lot more than You give!" he retorted. "You stripped way the humans' righteousness and immortality, You took away our Divinity when You cast us out of Heaven, and You allowed both our sides to destroy Your creation!"

IT IS NOT WITHIN YOUR PLACE TO UNDERSTAND.

Crowley laughed bitterly. "No, it's not. It never was, was it? Be a good little demon, that's it, and you won't be punished. Don't ask questions because knowledge is a sin." He slumped where he sat, any false bravado leaking away as quickly as it had come. All that remained with terrifyingly vulnerable aching. "Why didn't You do more?" he asked softly. "Why did You just sit back and let all of this happen?"

God was silent was for so long that Crowley didn't think he would receive an answer. Then: KNOWLEDGE WAS NEVER THE ORIGINAL SIN, CROWLEY. THE SIN LIES IN THINKING YOURSELF HIGHER THAN THE MOST HIGH. THIS IS WHERE LUCIFER FELL. I CREATED YOU ALL WITH INNOVATION AND CREATIVITY BUT HE ABUSED THE GIFTS I GAVE HIM. I CAST YOU ALL OUT BECAUSE I COULD SEE THAT NONE OF THEM WOULD EVER WILLINGLY TURN BACK TO ME. ALL EXCEPT, PERHAPS, ONE.

In the silence Crowley frowned. "But... that's not-- that..." He stammered for another long moment, trying to find the words to explain, but ultimately found none.

YOU HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO FIND DIVINITY AGAIN, CHILD. JUST AS AZIRAPHALE HAD ALL THOSE YEARS TO FALL, IF HE SO CHOOSE TO. THE ARRANGEMENT SUITED YOU BOTH FOR ALL THOSE YEARS, AND IT DID MORE THAN THAT IN THE END.

"But what good does that do me, now?" Crowley demanded. "You still allowed them to kill one of Your own. Aziraphale's gone."

DID I NOT ALREADY SAY I HAVE THE POWER TO GIVE, OR TO TAKE AWAY? I HAVE GIVEN YOU THE CHANCE TO TAKE BACK WHAT I STRIPPED FROM YOU, CROWLEY. BUT I CAN GIVE YOU SO MUCH MORE, INCLUDING WHAT YOU HAVE LOST.

Hope began to stir deep in his chest as he began to understand. And then he found himself smirking. "I never pegged You for the bartering sort of guy. I think I like it." He thought about it for a long moment. It had been a long, tiring existence as a demon and it had never grown easier; in fact, he had secretly begun to wonder why he kept on working for the side of Hell. But he had never realized that the offer of Redemption was open to him, so he had quietly begun to do less and less to further the cause of Lucifer's until he had become disillusioned to the point of depression.

Aziraphale had realized that something had changed in the demon, something that if well-tended could grow into a new and wonderful thing, but then the End Times had begun and both of them had been called to their respective sides. It had never had a chance to take hold. 

Now he wondered what it would be like. To find Divinity again. To stand in the light of Grace and not have to worry about it all. And best of all, to have Aziraphale back, because that was what God was promising, wasn't it? Accepting Divinity if he could have the angel back? After almost eight thousand years of bickering and back-stabbing and hatred he wanted some peace for once, and he was sorely tempted to take the Almighty up on His offer.

Imagine, a demon being tempted by God.

If that wasn't a blasphemous thought he didn't know what was.

Yeah, he _really_ liked it. "I would like to," he admitted slowly. "But what about the Archangels? I don't think they'll take too kindly to the idea that Aziraphale and I are just fine."

OH, DON'T WORRY, the Almighty replied, and there was the slightest hint of smugness to His tone now, I HAVE A WAY AROUND THAT.


	2. Part II

And quite suddenly he was falling.

Not Falling; no, that time was over and done with and would never come again, and Crowley could still God like a warm blanket. There was no burning, no wailing, no cursing as thousands Fell to darkness. 

Then he realized that he had a body again. It felt the same as the old one but with minute differences, like a familiar suit that had grown wrinkled from falling asleep in and needed to be straightened. 

The ground was rushing up at him, a blanket of deepest greens and yellows that looked so sparklingly new and clean he was surprised it wasn't gleaming in the sunlight. It looked so much like his vague memories of Eden before the Fall that he couldn't help his gasp.

And then he realized that he had no wings. Where once he would have been able to simply unwrap his wings from the ethereal plane now they simply weren't there, and so that meant he was plummeting very fast and very solidly to a very real and very solid Earth.

"If this was Your idea I take it back!" he shouted over the roaring of the wind in his ears. He thought he felt a rumbling deep in his bones like Someone was chuckling but he was too busy wondering how he was going to slither his way out of this one alive to think about it. The trees were coming terrifyingly closer.

DO YOU TRUST ME, CHILD?

"You want to do this now? Really?"

DO YOU TRUST ME?

"...Yes?"

GOOD. REACH OUT AND STOP YOUR FALL WITH THE BRANCHES OF THE TREES.

Gravity would sooner pull his arms from their sockets if he tried to stop a freefall from so far up, but he determinedly shoved the cynical thought from his mind and tried to focus on what he'd been instructed. When the tallest tree was within hands-grasp he reached out and grabbed onto the sturdiest branch he could see. He expected an explosion of pain and maybe even the tearing of flesh as he left his arms behind him but neither of those things happened. There was a jarring moment when gravity abruptly lost its grip on him and the branch bent alarmingly but didn't break, and he felt his stomach shoot up into his throat.

But he was alive.

"Great," he said sarcastically, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart and the mix of fear and exhilaration the fall had given him. "Now what?"

The answer came quite simply in the form of a second figure appearing out of nowhere from the sky and Crowley had a split second of seeing white-blonde curls and a flash of pale blue eyes before he realized who it was. With a wordless cry of relief and surprise he reached out and grabbed hold of his angel's wrist as Aziraphale fell past him, and of course that was when the branch decided to give out. It didn't so much as break as just bow down too much for him to keep a grip on it and they both found themselves plummeting again.

Of course, by now they had nothing to worry about since they were only a few dozen feet off the ground. If such a thing as cartoons still existed in this moment their landing in conveniantly-placed ferns would have been the moment when the unfortunate cartoon character would have placed a cartoon-shaped hole in the ground with a cloud of dust rising from where they had landed. For both Aziraphale and Crowley they disappeared underneath the swaying ferns with all the wind knocked out of them and in the sudden silence a few leaves knocked loose drifted lazily to the grass.

"Ow," Crowley groaned in the frozen silence, and quite suddenly life sprang back into action around them. They could hear birds singing and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves as it blew overhead, and warm sunlight spilled through in patchwork around them. Soft hands were pulling at him, drawing him back from his sudden want to sleep.

"Crowley! Crowley, my dear, open your eyes! _Look at me_ , Crowley!"

Aziraphale's pale face appeared above him, as real and solid as everything else was around him, and Crowley lifted a hand to run his fingers down the angel's cheek. A wide, silly smile pulled at his mouth. "You're alive," he said wonderingly.

Aziraphale choked on something that might have been a laugh, could have been a sob. "So are you, my dear."

Relief was flooding him with something akin to being drunk, and he felt weightless. He started to laugh despite himself, wanting nothing more than to respond and reassure the angel that everything was all right but the memories of blood and darkness and Endings were rushing back to him and without quite realizing when, his laughing turned to gut-wrenching sobbing. Above him, Aziraphale's expression cracked and he pulled the shuddering demon into his arms and allowed himself to cry with him. 

Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way, sheltering themselves in the other's arms, but they could feel the Earth steadily continuing on. Finally, though, Crowley wiped his face and lifted his head from Aziraphale's lap to look around. "Where are we?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "I don't know." He sniffed and rubbed the tears from his cheeks. 

Crowley felt his own still tracking down his cheeks and smearing on his lips, and without thinking he licked them off-- and then he paused. A Fallen angel's body was similar to a human's in certain ways, and the demons had found that the tears they shed were salty. But now... "No salt," he whispered, his eyes wide as he met Aziraphale's own startled gaze.

"And your eyes, my dear," the angel said quietly. "They're grey."

They sat in silence for another long moment. Maybe it was an hour, or a week. Maybe it was even a year. Then, "Does that mean I'm... I mean, d'you suppose it's possible that maybe I'm unFallen now?" Crowley frowned, trying to remember everything that had happened. "He asked if I wanted to be given back what had been taken from me..."

"He who, Crowley?"

"Y'know, Aziraphale. Him. The Man Upstairs. The Beginning and the End, the Alpha and Omega, I Am That I Am, take your pick because He's got a _lot_ of names--"

Aziraphale looked shaken. "You met Him? When?"

"Before I ended up here! I thought Michael's sword would have ended up killing me for good but I found myself in the company of the Creator of the whole bloody universe and He asked me if I wanted a second chance!" Crowley looked at him carefully. "Why? What happened to you, angel?"

Aziraphale shook his head. He remembered the soul-crushing grief that had torn at his heart when Michael's celestial sword had torn a ragged gash deep into Crowley's chest, ending the demon's existence almost instantly. He could remember the way the Archangels had remained so impassive and unmoved at the sight of such sacrifice even as he had thoughtlessly crawled in the blood-tinted mud to draw the demon's body into his arms. He'd been too shocked and horrified to even cry. "I thought I'd ended up nowhere," he said softly. "Michael didn't even hesitate. But I found myself in a dark place and I heard Him tell me, 'A reward for you, child. Have back what you have lost.' And then I found myself falling here, wherever this is, and that's when we ran into each other."

Another moment of silence passed them by as they struggled to process each other's stories. "D'you suppose that this really is a second chance?" Crowley finally asked after a moment. He looked sideways at Aziraphale, who could only shrug. 

"As long as we're together, my dear, I'll seize it with both hands."

\-----

"Sneaky bastard," Crowley breathed, trying to feel more betrayed than elated and failing miserably. His smile was only growing. If he had only known just how sneaky God was from the beginning there was a much better chance he wouldn't have Fallen in the first place.

Aziraphale glared at him but again it was without much heat. "Language, my dear. If this is indeed the new Earth then we must take every precaution to not _sully it this time_."

The warning was clear in the emphasis but Crowley merely leaned back and laughed. "Oh come on, Aziraphale, you've gotta realize how brilliant all this is! You've gotta admit He's plenty sneaky when He wants to be, and this proves it! He promised me He had a way to make sure you and I were beneath the Archangels' notice, and this is what He went with."

"But I don't know how to be anything other than an angel!" Aziraphale exclaimed, burying his fingers in his hair. 

"Come on, angel," Crowley wheedled softly. "It's not all bad. Give it a few years. What have we really lost, then, huh? Sure, we don't have our wings anymore, so we can't fly, and I know we can't miracle anything into existence like we did, but being a human here has a different ring to it than Before."

"But I liked being an angel," Aziraphale said morosely, looking sadly at his hands. 

Crowley snorted. "Well, I found that being a demon was starting to drag so I'm fine with it. C'mon, being human isn't that bad. We liked them well enough all those thousands of years. Why not join them?"

Those pale blue eyes glared at him. "Not funny."

"Not meant to be a joke," Crowley retorted smoothly. It was an interesting sensation feeling mischievous without any negative emotion caught up in it. "Not when it's literal." He grabbed the newly-human Aziraphale's hand and dragged him to his feet. "Now c'mon, I want to go and see what plants He has here on the new Earth. Maybe there are roses without thorns!"

This second Earth had caught them both completely and utterly off guard. Where they had been led to believe that it would be nothing but the Garden of Eden all over again, with nothing of Earth that made it interesting, the reality was altogether quite different. Cities interspersed with a heavy dose of forestry was a common sight all around them, and everywhere they looked the humans were busy placing their marks on the world. There were some who drew and painted the new sights of God's Creation; others delighted in building and creating and passing the knowledge along; still others, and this delighted Crowley most, composed music. 

It was a hodge-podge of the old and familiar. People had books and sketchbooks, and others had their tractors and equipment in order to work the land that they had had Before, and still others had drum sets and machinery and recording equipment to make a wide array of sounds and music. It was a familiar sight to find a crowd of people gathered around multiple singers from Before performing their work, both old and new, and it was an interesting mix of the classical and rock and rap and indie that made both Aziraphale and Crowley smile.

Clearly, it didn't matter that Hell had the best musicians. 

Crowley had his Bentley back. Until their discovery of their humanity it had been the biggest shock for the unFallen demon-turned-human, and it had delighted him to know and to have it back. It never broke down, never needed petrol, never needed new parts, and he could go just as fast in it as he had Before. Even better, other humans who had owned favorite cars from their previous lives had theirs with them too, so drag and street racing was a common occurrence at all hours, and if Aziraphale didn't always know where his friend was he only had to find the latest friendly competition to find Crowley's black Bentley intermingled with other sleek, beautiful cars. He'd only lost once, so far, to a 1971 Hemi Challenger that had been driving so fast it was merely an orange blur as it sped past, leaving behind only the blonde driver's maniacal laughter as he won.

There was no death. There was no sickness. There was no tempting or evil or wrong-doing. And where Before both angel and demon would have probably been driven to absolute distraction being a human in this place it was a reprieve. These bodies were perfect, after all, and in some ways better than even their previous ones had been.

Although even Crowley had to admit that losing the ability to fly was unfortunate. 

And then came the moment when the Almighty's solution was tested. The two of them were heading down to the perfectly clear river that ran through the city when they heard footsteps coming from a path to their left, and they turned to look to find that Michael was passing through. The angels for the most part remained Up There following the restructering of the Heavenly hierarchy but it was not uncommon to find them coming down occasionally to enjoy the new Earth. 

The mightiest of God's Archangels merely glanced at them briefly, his brow furrowing as if he were confused; both Aziraphale and Crowley remained standing side by side and if their fingers quietly took hold of the other's it was without any outward reaction. And then Michael nodded to them with softening eyes and he walked on.

Crowley sagged where he stood and blew out his breath in a rush. Aziraphale's fingers tightened almost painfully around his, but of course there was no pain in this place, and he squeezed them back. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat. "I thought that maybe..."

"I know," the former angel said softly with a somber smile, and still he didn't let go of Crowley's hand. And then quite unbidden he drew the startled former former demon into an embrace. "Have I told you how much I've appreciated you, my dear?"

The confession threw Crowley for a loop and of course when that happened he opened his mouth without thought. "Maybe once or twice, angel. Nothing too monumental because I think the End Times would have started right then and there, but of course who knows with the Ineffable Plan--?" But his arms came up and wrapped themselves securely around Aziraphale's back without conscious thought even as he spoke and he breathed in his friend's familiar scent and simply breathed.

\-----

"Aziraphale?"

The sun was setting. That had been yet another surprising fact about this new Earth; but of course it shouldn't have been. Since the Beginning, God had decided that day and night were good, and of course he had created the stars and moon before any angels or humans Fell so why wouldn't they exist now? Crowley took these nights to sleep when he felt like it although his human body didn't need much at all to feel rested, and frequently now he found himself with a familiar visitor.

The former angel and demon were stretched out together on Crowley's bed, with Crowley curled comfortably along Aziraphale's side while the latter read Luke's account of how God created the second Heaven and Earth. The former angel had a library of books to peruse and Crowley frequently found him conversing with James and Augustine and Tolkien and Lewis about the techniques of writing and what latest stories they were coming up with and how they could glorify the Lord in them.

It was all to glorify in God. And maybe once Crowley would have been disgusted by that fact once that such a deity would demand such devotion, but he frequently remembered the gentle chastisement to that Voice which had replied to one of his questions in that wide expanse of Nothing: It is not your place to understand, Child. 

Aziraphale shifted where he lay. "Yes, my dear?"

"It should have been so easy for one of us to Fall again. If not the angels then one of the humans. Us, I mean. What makes Him think that what happened Before with Lucifer won't happen again?"

Aziraphale's fingers carded softly through the former demon's red hair, leaving it sticking up on end. He hummed softly under his breath and slowly shut the book. Near them another singer was raising his voice to the sky, his style an interesting mix of rap and singing as he praised the delivered Coming. "I don't," he finally said softly. "I suppose it's all part of the--"

"If you say Ineffable Plan, angel," Crowley hissed, sounding scarily like the snake he had been, "I'll bite you."

"-- Understandable Plan! I mean the Understandable Plan, of course, I don't know what we were thinking calling it Ineffable all this time. It was very clearly and sensibly Understandable."

"To who, angel?"

TO ME, OF COURSE.

The answering Voice made them both sit up like they'd been shocked (and maybe they had been). 

God was standing at their door.

He came down frequently. That was the biggest difference here; rather than an unknowable, secret God now they had One who walked among them and laughed and loved them all without any reservation or Plan to follow.

The book went flying. "Lord!" Aziraphale gasped, leaping to his feet. Crowley followed suit more slowly and feeling like he'd been hit over the head but he didn't shy away. God hadn't been to see them yet in all the time this new Earth had existed but he'd suspected it was only a matter of time.

PEACE, AZIRAPHALE. I CAME MERELY TO EXPLAIN THE ANSWER TO CROWLEY'S QUESTION.

"Omnipotence. Of course," the former demon said with a roll of his eyes. "Had to show off, didn't you, Dad?"

There was a slight smile on His face. IT'S IN MY JOB DESCRIPTION, IS IT NOT? BUT THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT. THE REASON WHY LUCIFER'S FALL WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN IS BECAUSE NO ONE WILL WANT TO. 

"But... does that mean we still have free will?" Aziraphlae asked. "As humans, of course, because neither of us had such when we were an angel and a demon."

DO YOU THINK SO? YOUR ACTIONS TO AVERT THE APOCALYPSE ONCE PROVED OTHERWISE. YOU LOVED THE EARTH TOO MUCH TO LET IT END THEN, AND IT WAS ULTIMATELY YOUR LOVE FOR AZIRAPHALE THAT ALLOWED YOU TO JUMP IN FRONT OF THE SWORD THAT LAST DAY, CROWLEY. THAT IS NOTHING IF NOT FREE WILL.

"Yeah, I wanted to know about that," Crowley said, perking up. "Why can we all remember the times of Before? The others here, they can remember living then and the ones they loved. They can remember the sins they committed. So how has that changed anything?"

I WAS GETTING TO THAT, YOU IMPATIENT CHILD. I NEVER SAID THAT WE WOULD FORGET THE OLD EARTH. ALL THOSE WHO WOULD HAVE TURNED AWAY FROM ME AGAIN HAVE BEEN THROWN IN THE PIT; ALL THOSE WHO ARE HERE WITH ME ARE LOYAL. THEY ARE THE ONES WHO REMEMBER AND WANT NO PART IN A REPEAT. IF I HAD MERELY MADE YOU FORGET YOUR PREVIOUS LIVES THEN HISTORY WOULD HAVE BEEN DOOMED TO REPEAT ITSELF.

"You'e been talking with Sontanya again, haven't you?"

AH, BUT I SAID IT FIRST. 

"Of course You did," Aziraphale agreed. "But, sir, I wanted to ask another thing: the, er, current state of our being as it were. We're human. But why is that?"

The smile widened. I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO ASK THAT. I DID IT FOR THE OBVIOUS REASON; SO THAT YOU COULD HAVE NORMAL LIVES FOR ONCE, AND SO THAT THE ARCHANGELS WOULD NOT BOTHER YOU. He was silent for a moment. BUT I KNOW YOU BOTH MISS IT.

"I miss my wings," Crowley confessed, partially hidden behind Aziraphale's shoulder. His chin was digging into the former angel's shoulder blade. 

YES, the Almighty said slowly, I SUPPOSE YOU WOULD. TELL YOU WHAT: I WILL GRANT YOU BOTH ANGELIC STATUS AGAIN BUT ONLY IF YOU CHOOSE TO STAY HERE ON EARTH. I BELIEVE YOU BOTH WOULD BE RATHER BORED IF I RECALLED YOU TO HEAVEN. THERE'S NO CARS TO RACE OR CONCERTS QUITE LIKE THESE. OR BOOKS. DEFINITELY THE BOOKS.

"Really?" Aziraphale gasped, delight lighting up his face. "Oh yes, I would most appreciate it!"

Crowley nodded his agreement.

God clapped his hands together and thunder rumbled far above them. GOOD! NOW, IF YOU DON'T MIND ME SAYING IT IS GOING TO BE A LOVELY NIGHT AND I THINK YOU WILL BOTH WANT TO EXPERIENCE IT FROM A BIRD'S EYE VIEW.

And then He was gone. Both Aziraphale and Crowley sat in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened, and then Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at the former demon. "I feel different, my dear."

"Yeah. Did he make us angels just like that?" And scooting a little off the bed Crowley imagined his wings springing into existence. Aziraphale was knocked cleanly off the bed as long shockingly white feathers appeared and fell over him. Crowley smiled. "Well, would you look at that? I guess He can just like that!" He flopped onto his belly and helped grip Aziraphale's arm to haul the latter upright again. "Sorry about that, angel."

"It is quite all right, my dear. Quite all right. Now, let's see about mine. And... there we go!" The delight only grew deeper on Aziraphale's face as he met Crowley's astonished gaze. "What do you say about going out for a moonlit flight, my dear?"

"Race you!" Crowley exclaimed, and he leaped off the bed and through the window. For a moment he dropped out of sight and then he steadied himself and flew off. Aziraphale laughed and dropped the book carefully on the bed before following him.

The lights of the concert below them lit up the area like a silver sun, and the heavy bass beat of drums vibrated in the air as the two new-restored angels sped and dived and juked in the air far above the gathered crowds. Above them the Almighty smiled to see them, as below the singer's voice rose up for everyone to hear:

_Our creed, our culture, even our names_  
Fall straight into the shadows of the depths of how we relate   
A body, a family, different parts but one in the same   
Spiritual shame it can not clinch us   
‘Cause the love we have is different   
You can say what you say   
But nothin’ can stand in the way   
Of the rising on the horizon   
Open your eyes to a new day 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where credit is due: the last stanza of song is from tobyMac's song Horizon(A New Day) which I listened to a lot while writing this second chapter.


End file.
